Twas thin O'Toole, the Irishman, pushed wid his elbows thro' the crowd, He dhropped his tanner, an' he wint into the show that day, An' as he thrapsed along the decks, an' in the howld, an' up an' down, He sudden got a pleasin' thought, an' thin he went away, He kep' the saycret to himself, an' never towld a single sowl, He kep' it dark, so there was none to budge, or tell the tale, He wint to Father Mooney, an' he took the pledge agin' the drink, An' in the sheds of his back yard, he built a fleet of sail, He whistled as he worked, an' took a soothin' whiff of honest weed,-- That wasn't 'dultherated wid cabbage laves, or such,-- "I'll prove that Noah's out of it," He sung, an' took an airy fit Of step dancin', "I'll make a hit, an' lave him on a crutch!" He saw that Noah advertised, in notices around about, He'd have to charge the passengers, to save them from the flood, 'Twas such a dirty selfish thrick, that nobody could stand to it; But like a thrue born Irishman, siz Pat, siz he, "I could Collect thim all, Both great an' small, An' won't give him a chance at all, I'll spoil his speculation, an' I'll save thim from the flood!" [Illustration] Wid that he wandhered round the world, an' gathered curiosities, Of every sortins of the male, an' of the faymale kind, An' thin embarked thim in his fleet, until he had them all complate, He didn't lave a quadruped, or bird, or midge behind, He kep' the saycret to himself, an' never wint upon the dhrink, An' out of every pub, they missed his presence round the town, Until the sky was gettin dark, An' thin the hatches of the ark, Wor overhauled by Noah, an' the wet kem peltin' down, Thin Japhet, Shem, an' Ham, stood on the threshowld of their father's ark, An' shouted to the thousands, that wor in the teemin' rain, "Shut up yer umberellas quick, an' save yerselves for half-a-crown, Ye'll never have a chance like this, in all yer lives again! For if ye want to save yer wives, Or if ye'd like to lave yer wives, Or maybe wish to save yer lives! It's half a crown, come in, The world will all be dhrownded soon! We know it be the risin' moon, A wheel of mist is round her boys, Come in, an' save yer skin!" The charge was rather high, an' so they didn't get a sowl to go, For thin the royal mint was low, an' everyone was poor, "Ah! what's the use of bawlin' there?" siz Noah, from his aisy chair, "Yer only blatherin to the air! come in an' hasp the door,"